


Magic in the music

by killerweasel



Series: The Man with Two Brains [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerweasel/pseuds/killerweasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock gets an upgrade, but he's still missing something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic in the music

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Музыка творит чудеса](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258899) by [WTF_MOSK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_MOSK/pseuds/WTF_MOSK)



Title: Magic in the music  
Fandom: _Sherlock_  
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes  
Word Count: 700  
Rating: PG  
A/N: AU after _A Study in Pink_ , crack!fic

It had taken Mycroft’s people almost three months to perfect a set of fully articulate arms and hands for Sherlock’s robot shell. From what one of them was telling John, there was absolutely nothing like it anywhere else in the world. Sherlock’s requirements had pushed the scientists into completely unfamiliar territory, but the results had been amazing. They’d made breakthroughs in a number of fields, some of which could actually be used to help people who had lost limbs.

Things were almost normal, as normal as 221B ever was, at the flat. John would wake in the middle of the night to the haunting sound of Sherlock’s new violin. Sometimes he would pad out of his room to watch Sherlock play. He thought it was interesting that the liquid around Sherlock’s brain would turn an unusual shade of blue while the miniature hands made the bow dance across the strings. Most of the time Sherlock would be so caught up in what he was doing, he didn’t even notice John was there. When he did though, he would play one of the pieces John really enjoyed before John would head back to bed again.

The day Sherlock received his violin had been rather unpleasant. Sherlock was in a horrible mood due to John actually picking him up and carrying him away from crime scene because he’d been acting like a complete prat, even more than usual. If John hadn’t removed him, he was fairly certain the top of Lestrade’s head would have exploded off of his skull.

Sherlock had been pacing back and forth across the room for the last hour, loudly expressing his displeasure with John’s actions while John did his best to ignore him. Sherlock didn’t even stop when Mycroft appeared at the door. Mycroft leaned his umbrella against the wall and then knelt down in front of Sherlock. He held out what looked like a small violin case. Sherlock went statue still before slowly reaching out and taking it from his brother.

The expression on Mycroft’s face when Sherlock opened the case was something John would remember for the rest of his life. It was very rare for him to ever witness Mycroft smile and when he did it was usually fake. This smile though, this one was real. It made the man look years younger. John could almost feel Sherlock’s excitement as the robotic hands carefully removed the violin from the case. After a bit of tuning, Sherlock put the bow to the strings and began to play.

John didn’t recognize the piece of music, but Mycroft must have because he saw the elder Holmes’ eyes widen. Whatever it was, John really enjoyed it. It reminded him of a spring rain, the type that made you kick your shoes off and go walking through the wet grass while it washed your cares and concerns away. The storm grew in intensity until it felt like he was being swept across the room by wind, thunder, and lightning. The bow flew across the strings, increasing in speed until Sherlock’s hands were almost a blur. As quickly as the storm had begun, it vanished. It was replaced by the gentle sounds from earlier. When Sherlock eventually came to a stop, John found himself more relaxed than he’d been in weeks.

Sherlock didn’t say thank you, he rarely used those words, but he did whisper something to his brother John couldn’t quite make out. Mycroft ran his hand along the top of the jar holding Sherlock’s brain, almost as if he were stroking a set of imaginary curls. Sherlock leaned into the touch. After a moment, Mycroft straightened up. He tilted his head in John’s direction, picked up his umbrella from beside the door, and left.

Mycroft’s footsteps had barely faded when Sherlock began to play again. John watched him in amusement as he twirled around. He hadn’t seen Sherlock this happy in ages, not since Sherlock had successfully been able to finish an experiment he’d started when he’d been his human self. Sherlock was still playing when John forced himself to go to bed. As John started to drift off, he swore he could hear Sherlock playing a lullaby.


End file.
